


Something More Precious Than Words

by shuwashuwishuwa



Series: Shadow Striker [2]
Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: M/M, what is even happening here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuwashuwishuwa/pseuds/shuwashuwishuwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fujigaya wasn’t made for words or actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something More Precious Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> more Kisumai-are-black-market-defense-squad things. originally posted at [here](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/308350.html) for the [shiritori comm](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/).

‘Words are enough,’ Kitayama had told him lightly, an offhanded comment when they had discussed his reservations with anything that would even touch on emotion. There had been a reply at the tip of his tongue, sharp and biting and a mix of bitter and the metallic taste of blood, but Fujigaya had held back. He wishes it weren’t all he was good for, not for the first time, but old habits die hard.

And Kitayama had walked away without so much as another retort. Again. Then the botched job that nobody still has the gall to talk about when he’s around, god. It still gives him nightmares, and he refuses to stay with Yokoo despite knowing it’s the only thing that will give him some semblance of calm. No, they needed Yokoo to be fit to work--their team’s barely functional right now, suspended from ops and stuck with newbie errands and stacks upon stacks of papers that even Miyata has no patience to handle.

And they both knew Fujigaya would just drive the doctor up the wall--three days, tops.

To be perfectly honest, if it weren’t for Tamamori passing him pills under the table, he’d still be unable to sleep, what with the haunting sight of gore and the stench of scorched flesh always vividly present in his dreams. He’d seen a lot of terrible things in this line of work, but never Kitayama unconscious. Never him covered in so much red that Fujigaya had frozen on the spot for a moment, despite wanting to know if the blood was actually Kitayama’s or someone else’s.

Fujigaya turns in his sleep, discomfort obvious in his face. He doesn’t do regrets, and even when he knows Kitayama has clearly gotten under his skin and clouded his judgement, he can’t stop. He has feelings, too, damn it. Just because he’s got a tighter lid on them more than anyone doesn’t mean they don’t exist, or aren’t valid, for that matter.

It had always been true, up until now; Fujigaya wasn’t made for words or actions, but he’d be damned if he let Kitayama leave him looking dejected like that ever again.


End file.
